Faking it
by ThereWillBeCubes
Summary: Dipper's the worst practitioner in his entire family. He's never been great at magic, he's struggling to improve - he doesn't even have a familiar. Maybe it's time to fix that. Dipper makes some mistakes.
1. Chapter 1

**Hellooooo my wonderful cubes!**

 **So, this is a story I wote on paper a long time ago but I never got the chance to share it with you guys. I really think you'll like it because Bill and Dipper is the main characters, and I guess people sorta see them as a ship.**

 **There is going to be demons, witchcraft, and mild gore. So if you're uncomfortable with those three things you do not have to read this. If you're interested, please stick around till the end!**

 **Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this crazy idea of mine! ;D**

* * *

Its not terribly unusual for a witch to not have a familiar, but that's typically reserved for people as old as Grunkle Stan, whose familiars have died, either due to natural causes, or in some duel or battle. They're only animals, after all, and as useful and comforting as they are, they're not immortal. By time most people reach middle age, their first familiars have already passed, and they've moved on to another one.

They say you never forget the first, that the combination of your magic influences you for the rest of your life.

Dipper's eighteen, and he still doesn't have a familiar. He's never found anything that felt right.

A practitioner without one at Dipper's age is, at best, weird, or at most- Well, Dipper's heard worse things about him. At least in Gravity Falls, it's more out of pity for his lack of companion, not that he's shunned for being a freak with magic.

Still, he watches Mabel and Waddles doing all kinds of things with each other - the little outfits she makes him, the odd pink tone that's been added to all of the spells she casts, the hugs...

It bothers him. A _lot._

Mabel's had a familiar for _years_ now, and Dipper can't find anything that matches his own magic, or even wants to hang around him for too long. He likes animals, sure, but nothing's ever been very interested in hanging out with him when Mabel's around. She attracts affection like a magnet, and it's understandable, she's a lovable person.

But it still leaves Dipper feeling left behind. _Especially_ when it means he never gets to form a bond.

It finally gets to him when he makes friends with a squirrel - not the kind of familiar he'd choose, but it's the first thing that's seems to genuinely _like_ him, and he haven't even been feeding it—

But when Mabel shows up at the shack, fresh back from her trip with Pacifica, the stupid furry thing immediately ditches him, begging for scratches behind the ear from his sister.

Dipper gives up.

Clearly, he hasn't got the talent. He's never been quite as magically strong as Mabel, that was clear enough since puberty set in, but he didn't think he'd be _this_ behind on things. He kind of wants to hate her, but it's not her fault Dipper is apparently least talented magician in the family. Or that he's apparently incompatible with _everything_ that's existed, _ever_

He groans into his pillow, collapsed face-first on the bed. He pulls another over the back of his head, and screams into the down of frustration.

Dipper curses for a long time before sighing, dropping a pillow off the bed and turning onto his side.

There... _are_ things he could try. It makes him embarrassed and feel a little sick, but at least he'd stop getting all those _stupid_ looks from other practitioners.

An illusionary familiar might be better than none. As long as he remembers to banish it, not to get attached to what's essentially a hologram of a creature. At least that way he'd have _something._

Mabel would stop looking at him with those awkward smiles. Grunkle Stan wouldn't have to carefully look away from him whenever familiars were brought up. Stan's reaction is almost worse than Mabel's, because Dipper _knows_ what his Grunkle is thinking, without the statement ever being said.

Dipper contemplates it, eyes feeling hot, rubbing at his face.

Fuck it.

It's a lie, but it's a lie he can keep up for a long time, and the spell is one he can actually pull off without assistance.

He sits up in his bed, clearing his throat and running his hands all over his face. All he needs is a knife and some time, and since he's alone in the Shack right now, well. Might as well go for it.

He settles down on the floor, then rethinks his strategy, and spreads out a clean white sheet before he begins. This is going to need some blood, and if he doesn't want Mabel, and Stan, and everyone else in this godforsaken town to find out, he's gotta clean up afterwords. It'll be easier to do laundry than scrub blood out of wood.

The bite of the knife into his palm catches and pulls his skin, but he gets a reasonably steady drip onto the sheet as he sits in the middle of the circle. His blood tickles only slowly, but he doesn't need a lot. This is humiliating as hell, but as he moves his hand around himself, dripping blood over the sketched circle on the sheet, Dipper feels better for at least _doing_ something about this. Fake or not, at the end of the day, he'll still have something to stand by his side. It's going to take up a good quarter of his magic to sustain a fake familiar, but it's not like he had much to work with anyway.

He almost clenches his hand in frustration, but stops, letting the blood keep falling on the sheet.

Nobody's going to notice. He reminds himself of that as he finishes the blood circle, and quietly murmurs the chant to himself. It'll take some of his own magic, and create a little illusion that can follow him around, bound to him and his flesh so it won't get lost, or wonder off.

Everything goes smoothly. The gentle cold that comes from the magic siphoned off blood trembles through him. Dipper can feel the slow build of energy in the circle, and there's a resonance in it that tells him it's matching his personal magic. Dipper finishes his chanting, and takes a slow breath,waiting for his imaginary familiar to materialize.

And that's when everything goes to hell.

The sheet underneath him bursts into blue flames. All of it. He would scramble away, but there nowhere to go, he _covered_ in the fire. It surrounds him entirely, flickering over his legs and hands.

Dipper looks all around himself - nothing hurts, nothing's being burned, apparently - he looks up.

With a sudden, painful impact, another person falls from the air and lands on him. Dipper's head bounces off the hard wooden floor, and he lies where he is, dazed.

The sheet beneath him has burned entirely away, and through his hazy perception, Dipper feels the chest against his breathe in, then out - and then the person sits up, stretching and groaning loudly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Asks the man. He stands up, brushing himself off. Dipper blinks at him slowly, watching as the strange man straightens the ridiculous top hat he's wearing. "This is by far the worst fucking summoning I've ever been part of," the man glances over himself, then lifts a hand and licks a little speck of blood off his thumb. "Nice magic, though. Tastes pretty familiar."

Dipper coughs quietly. His whole body ached, from the impact of the stranger landing on him, and from the amount of magic he's just spent. It's far, _far_ worse than he'd expected. He didn't even know he _had_ this much to spare.

He blinks and squints, still disoriented. "Sorry," he rubs at his temples, though his arms feel weak. "Just was... trying to get a..." He can't finish his sentence, and just groans quietly.

The man standing over him gives a soft, amused huff of breath. "Well then, since you're not all that interesting," he smirks at himself. "Except the worst dreams of your life, for, oh," the man hums contemplatively for a moment. "Forever. Thanks for wasting my time, fleshbag."

The stranger stretches his arms, eyes closed - Dipper notices that the other is covered by some eyepatch, how odd - then he pauses. And stretches again.

The stranger makes a few more perfunctory motions, the walks a circle around Dipper, muttering to himself. Dipper shakes his head carefully, sitting up. He feels a little better, though this is more than just a little confusing. There's no reason the spell should have failed.

He touches the ashes beneath him. The circle should have only summoned something close to his own magic, and it's not like there's anything else in the world that's comparable to his own-

The man pacing around him stops right in front of him. His single eye glares.

"What kind of spell were you trying here, kid?"

"Uh," Dipper's mouth feels dry. He swallows and licks at his lips. "I was, uh," it's embarrassing as hell to admit it, but the way this stranger is looking at him it too intimidating for him to lie. "I was trying to get a fake familiar."

The man's eye widens, and his face turns blank. He stares at Dipper, then looks away, making a few, unrecognizable gestures. Nothing happens. He looks at Dipper again.

Dipper shifts uncomfortably at his gaze. What the hell is going on?

"My name is Bill, by the way," the man - Bill says, after a few long moments of staring at Dipper. "And boy, kid, you didn't get a fake familiar," he smiles, wide, teeth sharp and white, and Dipper realizes with a start that this isn't a human. "You got a real one. And you're going to regret it."

* * *

 **Soooooo...how did you like it?**

 **In this fanfic, Bill is going to be a human than a stupid ass triangle. I hope I really expressed Bill's personality. The only reason why I made him more laid back is because he's meeting a human that he's uncertain of. He doesn't know if he can trust Dipper or not.**

 **Anyway, I'm working on chapter two right now as I speak...or type..I don't know. I promise I will get it updated in no time. ;D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well well well... Look who's back for more!**

 **So, I just want to thank FanGirlForever19 for being the first one to put this story as one of her favorites! I appreciate you and I'll definitely be reviewing one of you're stories!**

 **Anyway, sorry if this next chapter is too short for you cubes! I Just wanted tin hurry and share it with you wonderful people. :P**

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"What would be your least favorite way to die?" Bill asks, tapping his fingers against Dipper's shoulder idly. Dipper says nothing, face buried in his hands. Bill rolls his eye, and pokes at him, but Dipper slaps his hand away and continues sulking.

This was the single worst idea he'd ever had. He tried to get a fake familiar, and unfortunately, he succeeded beyond what should have been possible.

He's got a real familiar. And now, according to Bill, they're stuck together. For _always._

Because, joy of joys, Bill is apparently _immortal,_ so Dipper's never, _ever_ going to get a different familiar. The first one to die in this partnership is going to be him. Even more worrying, Dipper's not entirely certain Bill's not going to take the initiative and off him, just so he can leave the earthly plane sooner. The demon - he's a _fucking_ demon, how did this happen - seems slightly irritated with this realm of existence. Who would have thought his magic was most closely related to _demonic_ power? Because Dipper sure as hell didn't, and now look at the consequences.

It would be so terrible of this wasn't breaking every single law about summoning demons that Dipper knows about, and probably half a dozen others he doesn't.

Don't. Summon. Demons. That's a fact. Like 'don't try to breath underwater,' or maybe 'don't try to drink lava.' Except... summoning a demon is different from what Dipper just did.

Bill's not wondering around freely. He's not contained by a circle that he might be able to break. Dipper has a demon who's his fucking _familiar._ Bill just stole -or, thinking about it, maybe Dipper stole-? Anyway. One of them just robbed the other of a huge chunk of their life force, and who knows how that'll change things. He's never even _heard_ of this happening.

No wonder he'd never been able to contact with anything else. He has a better connection to immaterial - according to Bill, again, who was incredibly annoying during the explanation - instead of physical energies. Apparently, as far as this asshole has said, a regular familiar would never have worked for him.

Dipper accepts this, reluctantly. It's not like he hadn't tried a lot of connections with creatures in the past, so Bill's at least somewhat truthful.

He doesn't trust this creature, but they're connected now. It's... tentative, but he feels the vaguest link between them, and that's something he's never had before. Whatever he did when he summoned this... thing, it worked. There's this weird, gentle buzzing feeling in his chest, just beside or maybe even inside his heart, and when he tries to draw his own magic. Well..

Trying to light a candle nearly set the room on fire - _blue_ fire, at that, which would have been startling enough, even if the flames hadn't nearly consumed half the freaking room. Dipper nearly panicked before he stopped concentrating, and the flames faded. It's like every spell he tires to do gets shoved rudely forward. There's _far_ too much power for him to handle behind even the simplest conjuration.

Bill thought it was hilarious, and nearly laughed himself sick.

Dipper hates him already.

All of this is difficult to cope with, but at least he's not dead. Which is good. Terrifying, but good, considering he hasn't burned himself for the inside out by the additional power flaring inside him. He never thought he'd envy someone with a regular familiar. Animals' lifespans are so short, and losing something that's tied to part of your soul is, according to everyone, _extremely_ painful. But it's only been a couple of hours since he met Bill, and he already regrets everything.

He shoved the demon's hand away again as he gets poked, and it's promptly ignored.

"C'mon, entertain me," Bill says, wrapping his arm around Dipper's shoulders. Dipper lowers his hand, and tires to shove Bill away. What in the hell is he going to do about this? "Would it be burning? Drowning? Hanging? Mutilation? Burning alive?" Bill's smile is wide, white, and sadistic. "What's the worst way your life could end?"

Dipper groans quietly, and lifts his head up. There's only one answer to that. "It would be living for as long as possible," Dipper says blandly. "But having you around the entire time." The sudden silence surprises him, but he doesn't react.

The silence lingers. And lasts.

A full minute passes, before Dipper finally glances up at his... familiar? Or- companion? Harasser? Jackass he's stuck with? He's never heard of a sentient familiar before, what do you even call one of them-

Bill stares at him, eye wide. Dipper stares back, confused.

"Bro!" The door downstairs slammed open, and both of them look up at the sound. "We're back! Me and Waddles missed you!" Bill gives Dipper a mildly confused look, and Dipper just shakes his head. Mabel and her familiar are closer than usual, and it'd take long to explai—

Oh no..

He's going to have to explain this to his family, and how is he going to do that? _Nobody_ has a human familiar - nevermind that Bill isn't a human - and even then, how can he explain that he accidentally summoned something _hugely_ illegal in the magical community? Something this sadistic and dangerous? And that now he's bonded to it? Grunkle Stan might help it cover up, but still—

Dipper stands up from the bed, grabbing Bill's hand. They can get out the window and hide on the roof, until he comes up with something. Or maybe just run entirely. There's no way he could explain this that _won't_ be horrible—

The demon shrugs, slipping his hand out of Dipper's, and grabs him around his waist, winking at him. Dipper startles at the touch, then glares. Bill pulls him close, until their hips touch, arm wrapped warmly around him.

"What are you doing?" Dipper asks, tensing up.

"Hey, I get what's going on here," Bill says, clearly amused. "I know what humans think. Lucky for you, kid, you summoned me in this form, not my real one," he wiggles his eyebrows. "Who says anyone has to know what you did?"

Dipper pauses, confused. What's Bill- a thumb strokes over his stomach, and he stares at Bill, mouth dropping open. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me," this is arguably _worse_ than admitting he summoned a demon. To pretend- this? With _Bill?_ "We can't-"

"Why not?" Bill declares, and starts marching towards the stairs, dragging Dipper with him. In a softer voice, he mutters. "Seriously, kid, I ain't happy about it either," he looks Dipper over slowly, pausing at the top step. "You could always tell everyone what happened. So what if I get banished? It isn't like I need to be on the physical plane, though I got a few things I wanna do here." He shrugs, and Dipper squirms a little in his grip. Because if people find out Dipper summoned a demon, even accidentally, he's in _so much shit,_ he'd be lucky if he was only jailed for the rest of his life.

"Or," Bill draws out the word slowly. "Since we're tied together, while I'd prefer to wait until you died _naturally_ -"

Dipper shakes his head rapidly. "No! No, this isn't fine!" Of all the available options, this isn't... well, it could be worse. At least Bill doesn't look too bad. He clasped a hand over the demon's, and feels a hot flush of embarrassment. "It's... an okay cover story. I guess."

"Thought as much," Bill says happily. They walk downstairs together, pressed together companionably, and Dipper's mind starts working overtime, trying to come up with excuses.

For one, he's going to somehow have to explain to Mabel how he's hid a boyfriend from her. And come up with a backstory for them.

And _then_ things are going to get complicated.

* * *

 **Sometimes I just type words. I hope you enjoyed these ones! ;P**


	3. Chapter 3

Dipper beats his head against the tree a few more times, hand pressed up against the rough bark. "Stop. Doing. That."

Bill makes a soft humming noise, considering it. "Nah. See, Pine Tree, to stop would take effort," he stretches and relaxes on the log he lying on. "And I got better things to do."

Dipper clenches his fist, then turns on his familiar. "You're doing nothing! Literally, nothing!" He waves his hands at the demon, incredulous.

There's an area of blackened earth between them, scorched ground, and tiny embers where the grass fizzles down to its roots. Even the side of the log Bill's lounging on is touched with burn marks, though it doesn't seem to bother him.

"Excatly! It's way better than dealing with your issues, kid."

For a moment, Dipper considers spending the rest of his life beating his head against the tree. It might be more pleasant than dealing with Bill.

Also, he's running out of candles. If he doesn't get this under control...

He feels torn about it. On the one hand, his magic has gotten the kind of boost that's something straight out of fiction. He doesn't know anyone who can create this much fire this quickly. It's like something out of an action movie, or a bad fantasy novel.

On the _other_ hand, he only got this extra energy because he accidentally tied his life to a demon. And if anyone finds out what he _is,_ Dipper's in intense trouble for summoning him.

Bill finds their circumstances amusing. Though he was initially pissed off, he's adapted quickly, and seems to love the idea of having illegally intruded in the human realm. Violating rules entertains him, apparently. As does meeting with Dipper, which he's decided is the best thing since, quote, 'silly straws, and the slow death of innocence.'

Dipper lets his forehead rest against the tree again, taking a deep breath, and sighing. There are only a few ways this can end. Either,

• A: One of them dies - but Bill's immortal, and Dipper's not;

• B: They get found out, Bill gets banished, and Dipper gets arrested, if not worse, or,

•C: they somehow keep this stupid charade, and Dipper lives a long, natural life, with a huge jerk stuck by him the whole time.

There's absolutely no good outcome. The tiniest benefit, as far as Dipper can tell, is that unlike fictional demons, Bill seems content to be a tremendously creepy jerk, instead of trying to bloodily eliminate him.

So far, Dipper's aiming outcome C: Never not ever getting found out. He's already survived a conversation with his sister, and he thought that would be the biggest hurdle. But unfortunately, there's another problem.

Namely, that he got way too big of a boost to his magic, and now even trying to do the tiniest cantrip makes something explode. Which, considering what he used to be capable of, is going to be suspicious as hell. Dipper lives in freakin' Gravity Falls, he can't _not_ do magic the entire time he's here, not when he's already weird for not having an animal familiar.

That. And Bill is. Not. Helping.

"You're my familiar," Dipper says, trying to be firm. "You're-"

Bill laughs, interrupting him. "Hardly! What do you think this is, kid?"

"You-" Dipper sputters, storming over to Bill. "We're bonded, aren't we? So you should-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Bill says, sitting up and placing a finger over Dipper's lips. "Sure, we're bonded, but you think _I'm_ the familiar here?" He laughs a little harder, standing up and shoving Dipper backwards. "Guess what?"

Dipper takes a few steps away, glaring and wiping at his mouth. He glances at Bill, who stands confident and grinning in front of him.

"Really, Pine Tree," Bill says, amused. Dipper hates that nickname, but Bill won't stop calling him it. "Think about it. You've got the one, powerful, amazing being," he lights a flame in one palm, bright and large. "And the other, stupider, weaker being get tied up in their life force." His other hand hold a tiny flame, flickering weakly, and the two fires immermingle, the smaller one stealing a huge chunk of the bigger one, before separating, a thin link of fire joining them. "The big one is the owner! That's how this kind of thing works."

Oh no. "That's for animal familiars, this is totally different- and, and it's not like really owning something, anyway, you can't _make_ them do anything-"

Bill pats Dipper on the head, chuckling. "You're cute, kid." Dipper fumes. He shoves Bill's hand away, furious.

The demon shrugs, rubbbing his chin. "Gotta say, I've never had a pet before," he frowns, nose wrinkling, then smirks. "It's interesting. At least you take care of yourself, for the most part. And hey, look at all the earthly stuff I get to mess with in the meantime!" He waves his hand, gesturing at, well, everything. "Yeah, I think I'll help ya, Pine Tree. It's not like I can leave. You'll die sooner or later."

There's no good response for that. Dipper just stares, mouth working slightly, face hot with fury and embarrassment. He should have never tried that stupid spell. He couldn't have ever _imagined_ a worse result.

"So," He says slowly, tense and angry. "If that's the case, why the hell are you shoving so much magic down my spells? Doesn't it bother you? At all?"

"It kinda tickles."

Dipper glares.

Sighing, Bill shrugs. "You're only using a tiny bit," and that sends a _small_ chill up Dipper's spine. He's only trying to light a freaking candle, and there are massive blooms of flames each time. How much power does a demon have? "I told you, it'd take effort to stop you from drawing magic from me. If I'd do that, you'll develop bad habits." He pats Dipper again, condescending, as if he were a puppy in training. "I hold back now, when you start doing bigger spells, one day you'll pull to hard. And I'd lose more power than I'd like when you explode." Bill setles back down to lie on the log again.

Dipper freezes at that. "You don't mean-"

"You'd _actually_ explode," Bill says, eye closed, arms rested behind his head, looking relaxed and amused. He raises an eyebrow as if he's just had a thought, then chuckles, grinning at himself. "Messily."

"Right," Dipper says quietly, and moves back to where he was. It makes sense. It's terrifying, but he can't argue with it. It's not like Bill hasn't hasn't proved he's powerful, and he hasn't even been _trying_ to show off. Dipper's still got a few candles to practice on-

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bill smirking, his eye still closed. Clearly, he expects another explosion. Each time Dipper's tried this - over thirty times, Dipper stopped counting because it was getting depressing - Bill has laughed like a madman. Because he's an _asshole._

Dipper tenses, then kneels very slowly, spite rising within him. He's _not_ going to let it happen again.

He settles down in the middle of the circle - at this point he doesn't need to draw it again. The blackened ground around him gives him enough of an outline to work with.

He sets down the candle in the center of the lopsided burn in the earth. Dipper stares at the tiny, white wax thing for a while, thinking.

All his life, he's been pushing, giving it his all to work any spell. The physical spells - the core of any magic curriculum - have always given him trouble.

But Bill - he glances over at the demon, who's yawning and snapping a twig in half idly, clearly bored - proves that that's never been his strength. He's not _made_ for physical magic. He's compatible with the intangible, the metaphysical, and now that he has Bill's magic bolstering him, maybe... he's just been trying to hard?

Dipper stares at the wick of the candle. And, with only the vaguest wish to light it, no chanting or preparation or anything, he snaps his fingers.

Nothing explodes. The candle lights, flaring blue for only the briefest moment - of Dipper hadn't been looking for it, he never would have noticed.

He stares, stunned.

It... it was _so_ easy. It was beautifully easy, he could do this a thousand times, and never even feel a tent of the strain he'd put himself through trying this cantrip before.

Bill turns his head towards him, raising an eyebrow. He must have felt something. He glances at the candle, and back at Dipper.

"Okay, I'll credit you with being a quick study," Bill says, turning away and closing his eye, lounging around. "But you still the worst practitioner I've ever seen. You're already of age, and _this_ is all you can do?"

Dipper's sense of triumph fades rapidly. He flips Bill off, and the demon ignores him, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Right.

Dipper might be able to catch up to everyone else, to finally get up to speed with his peers, and match Mabel's abilities, like he used to. Hell, even surpass her, if Bill's magic is _really_ that powerful - but there's a horrible consequence.

Because it means having Bill around him. All. The. Time.

* * *

 **So this keeps happening. Whoops. My hands slipped...**


	4. Chapter 4

Dipper keeps his hand clasped to the side of his head, griming. The only good thing is that Stan and Mabel aren't home to see this.

At least most of the bleeding stopped.

He smacks the door to the Mystery Shack open with one head, the other keeping the makeshift bandage in place over his temple. His head throbs in a horrible, painful beat. Inside the Shack, Bill tilts his head up. He's draped upside-down over the edge of the gift shop desk, a well-worn book in his hands.

"Hey, what's this?" Bill says, dropping whatever he was reading to lean up, sitting upright on the counter. The demon tilts his head to one side, oddly curious. Dipper's injuries seem to interest him. "Thought I felt you getting into trouble. Looks like neither of us are gonna be on the mortal plane for much longer, kid. You'll be flesh paste sooner than later, the way you're going."

"Shut the hell up." Dipper growls, and he storms away, one hand holding the torn cloth bandage to his temple. The other feeling gently around his swollen eye. The last thing he needs is Bill's shit right now.

He heads straight towards the bathroom, and once he gets to the sink, Dipper casts a glance back behind him.

Bill's not following him. _Good._

He drops the cloth into the sink with a wet splat, sending red droplets around the basin. He wipes at his face with one hand, blood still tickles down from the cut, but it's finally started slowing down.

Dipper clenches his hands on the rim of the sink, bowing his head.

Any other time. _Any_ other time, and he'd be able to bring up a basic personal shield. But not after he summoned Bill.

Before this ridiculous bonding, he'd only be able to deflect a few blows before his shield collapsed, but it was at least _some_ shelter. Now, there's not one. Single. Spell. that Dipper can do. Not without gouts of demonic flames bursting out whenever he tries them.

He has to worry about exploding someone's arm off their body if he tries to do anything. It was the _only_ freaking magic he's ever been able to do consistently, and Bill has ruined it.

It's not like he asks to be picked on, but... hell, he's not so great at socializing, okay? And even though Gravity Falls is more welcome towards practitioners, they've got their own prejudices.

He's never going to have a familiar. Not one he can admit to. And because of that, even among other- hell, especially among other magicians - he's always going to be a freak. No matter where he is. No matter who's around. He's always going to be a target for assholes who want to make themselves feel more important.

And now he can't even _defend_ himself.

Dipper leans forward, breath halting in his chest, and rubs at his eyes.

He just... has to get himself together. He can deal with this.

Swallowing slowly, he wipes at his cheek with the back of his hand. There's less blood than a few minutes ago, but he can still barely see out of one eye, it's so swollen.

"So! How many?" Bill asks, his tone cheerful as anything. Dipper startles, then turns to stare.

The demon stands in the bathroom doorway, grinning with pleasure. He gives Dipper a little wave, looking eager.

"What are you talking about?" Dipper asks. He looks away, and starts rummaging through the cabinets. He's not cut to seriously, but blood it still ticking into his eye and he needs a bandaid, or something.

There's a soft sigh from Bill. "How many people did you kill?" He asks, patiently, as if it's a very simple question.

" _Nobody_ , obviously." replies Dipper, and, finding what he's looking for, he unwraps a bandaid and sticks it over the cut on his temple. "I don't kill people, Bill."

"Oh, please, I felt the magic you used. It was a lot! You did something almost impressive," Bill says, enthusiasm bright in his vocie. He steps in closer. Dipper has to duck down quickly to avoid his grasp, and Bill's arm sweeps over empty air.

Bill frowns, then he grabs Dipper by the belt and hauls him in close. Dipper grunts in protest, holding his hands up, keeping Bill, if not at arms length, then at least at the elbows. They're still way to close for his comfort, but at least there's some space between them.

"C'mon, gimme the details! If you're going to leech off of me, I should at least know how many mortals you've destroyed." Bill's eye widens and, for a moment, actually glows. "Tell me about it."

"Nobody died," Dipper insists, and shoves himself away. He almost stumbles into the bathtub, but Bill catches him by the collar and keeps him upright. Dipper grabs onto Bill's wrist, then tries to pull it off himself. "I didn't kill anyone. I didn't even try to. It's just-" he struggles for a moment, finding his balance. Might as well explain, since Bill's not going to leave him alone until he does.

"I couldn't get away," Dipper says slowly. "But after they hit me a few times... time stopped. I don't know how, but- whatever. I made a run for it."

Bill freezes. It gives Dipper a chance to brace himself, and try to pry Bill's hand off of his shirt.

"You can barely light a candle, Pine Tree. That kind of spell is beyond you." Bill says, looking away. He studies the nails of his free hand, with a kind of practiced casualness.

"I don't care what you think, asshole," Dipper says, taking a step away from his familiar. Whether Bill thinks something happened or not, what does it matter? "I'm telling the truth. Are you done bugging me or not."

"Nope! You're mine, kid. That's my power you're working with. I deserve to know what you're up to," Bill says, and grins sharply. "And I think you're lying."

"I'm _not."_

"Prove it."

Dipper fumes slightly. He doesn't know what happened, but he's _not_ lying.

Halfway though being beat up, he'd concentrated on being somewhere else, same as always. Pretending like it isn't happening is a decent way of coping. It wouldn't be the first time he's done it.

 _'Anywhere but here,'_ Dipper thought. _'anything but this.'_

And as he thought it, nothing happened.

Not a single hit landed, for almost a minute. And, eventually, Dipper opened his eyes.

The kick headed for his face had never hit him. The toe of the boot was less than an inch from hitting this nose. The familiar's teeth had never closed on his flesh, though when he turned his leg trying to get up, he felt a sharp brush of canines over his ankle; he rolled his leg from out between its teeth and tumbled away.

The assholes he'd tired to avoid, who had knocked him down, and started kicking - they were all frozen where they stood. Everything had stopped.

Dipper struggled away from between them, shuffling backwards on hands and feet, astonished. Color had vanished from the world. The buildings, trees, the people - everything was in grayscale. Nothing moved, and nothing made a noise, except for his own harsh breathing.

It was like someone hit a massive pause button on the universe.

He hadn't questioned it at the time, just found his feet and got the hell out of there as fast as he could. And as he ran, color bled back into the world, until he was at the Mystery Shack, staring at his jackass of a familiar.

Right now, Bill was staring at _him._

"Well?" The demon asks, the slightest hint of contempt in his voice.

Dipper flips him off. He's not a liar, and fuck, why does Bill even _care?_

Maybe Bill's just being a dick, that wouldn't be unusual for him at the slightest. Maybe Dipper hallucinated the whole thing, and he only imagined escaping. Even now he might be being eaten - but he's never zoned out that far, and Bill's hand is to warm and tight around his shirt collar, knuckles pressing against his collarbone.

Maybe... it's jusg a matter of getting into the right mindset. Like when he lit the candle. Hell knows he doesn't want to deal with this jerk any longer. So if it works, maybe he can get away from his familiar too, if only for a moment.

 _'I want to be anywhere else but here,'_ Dipper thinks, trying to put the same passion into it as he felt when he was trying to escape his beat down. He puts all the feeling he has into it, wanted to get away from the Shack, wanting Bill's hand off his shirt, wanting to be somewhere _else-_

Dipper peaks an eye open, and for an instant, he feels shock and relief.

All of the color is gone, there's nothing-

There's yellow.

He blinks both his eyes, staring. There's actually a _lot_ of yellow. And all of it is attached to the hand that's still holding him, keeping him close to his demonic familiar. Dipper blinks a few times, just in case he's imagining thinks, but Bill's still in front of him, and the jerk tilts his head to one side, as full of life and movement as always.

Dipper glances around himself. He's still in the Shack, and so is Bill. They're standing in the bathroom, just as they were moments ago. But now the world around them has been washed clean of color. Bill and himself were the only things moving.

And now, for some reason, the demon's staring at him with unusual intensity.

Bill let's go of Dipper's shirt, and Dipper takes the opportunity to back away quickly, pressing himself up against one of the walls. Bill's single eye glances around them, then stares at Dipper for a long, penetrating moment.

"So what you're saying is," Bill says carefully, clasping his hands together so that both of his index fingers are pointing at Dipper. "You, without any practice, or instruction, can somehow get your idiot human self here," there's an odd emphasis on the last word, like it's somehow important. "And you still let the bastard who did this _alive_?" One of Bill's hands reaches out, tapping Dipper on his cut temple gently.

Dipper flinches. "Yes?" He responds, clasping one hand over his head to stop Bill from touching his wound again. "Don't _do_ that. It only just stopped bleeding."

Bill hums softly, eyes narrowed. Then he nods, sudden and certain.

"Yep, I've decided. You're my pet, after all. Gotta be responsible, right?" He claps his hands together, grinning. Dipper flinches back, but Bill grabs him by the shoulders, pulls him in close, and-

Plants a kiss on Dipper's forehead.

What the hell?

"You're a moron, but you're a fun moron! And hey, I can't let someone else mess with my stuff!" Bill winks at him, and Dipper stares, aghast. "Specially not if you're gonna be living with me some of the time."

"What are you-"

The world snaps back into technicolor with a sudden jerk, and Dipper tenses up. He stares, and waves his hand in front of him, but there's nothing there.

Something weird just happened. In an instant between the world missing color and said color returning, Bill has, somehow, disappeared. It wasn't just physical, he felt that in his _soul._ And for a fleeting, hopeful instant, Dipper thinks that _maybe_ , Bill's gone for good.

But of course, he's not. God forbid something happens that makes Dipper's life easier.

He can still sense Bill, somewhere, doing... something. Their bond might be strong, but when it comes to knowing what Bill is up to, it's so unspecific that all Dipper gets from it is irritation. He groans, covering his face.

He can still feel a tingle on his skin from that evil, awful bastard's stupid, warm lips. Despite himself, he feels his face heat up, and he curses in frustration. He wipes at his forehead, face hot with embarrassment.

Bill is dangerous. He's fickle as hell. There's no way Dipper's found to control him yet, and he might not ever have a way to keep this jackass from ruining the lives of everyone around him, much less his own. He can't even keep an eye on him.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, slumping back against the wall and letting slide down to sit on the floor. There's no way his familiar is ever going to be helpful. Bill's going to do whatever he wants. He thinks Dipper is just a _pet._

Dipper stares at his hands, palms resting upward on his lap. They're bonded, whether he likes it or not. It's dangerous, and uncontrollable. Even having this much power, so much magic - Dipper breaths in slowly, then tries to relax. And lights up two bright, blue fires in his palms. He watches them for a few moments, thinking.

The flames tickle, a little. But even though they're small, they're already stronger than most practitioners can manage, and he knows that he can keep them up longer than anyone else.

Bill wants to mess around with the physical world, while he has a chance. It's not like the kind of realm he's used to, and he's having fun. But since they're connected now...

Dipper smiles.

A bond can go _both_ ways.

No matter what happenes, he's in trouble. Either someone finds them out... or Bill gets pissed off at his pet/owner/partner ...whatever the hell they were. And if Dipper's screwed either way, why not do whatever he wants? He might not be so great at physical stuff, but now he knows there are other energies to work with.

If Bill's going to mess with Dipper's reality, who says Dipper can't mess with _Bill's?_

But if he wants to do that, to try and get some kind of hand up on his familiar... Dipper groans, and lets the fire vanish, smacking both his hands over his forehead.

He can't believe he hadn't thought of it but - first, he's got to figure out what kind of demon Bill _is._

* * *

 **And more words appeared! I don't know what happened, but here's more of this! Thank you for reading! ;D**


	5. Chapter 5

Dipper blinks a few times in exhaustion, and frowns at the book in his hands. It's the closest lead he's gotten, but it's a little... weird. He's not even sure when he added this to his collection.

He spent the last two nights checking every book he has on magic - and he's collected a lot of them over the years, trying to be better, trying to _succeed_ \- but he's still no closer to an answer.

Bill's a demon, he knows that for certain. But he also knows that there are different kinds, and Dipper's still trying to figure out which one is his own personal tormentor is. So far, this is the only thing that's come _close_ to describing a creature like Bill.

The page that caught his eye mentioned the monochrome world, a strange, dapper man offering the author directions. It certainly sounds like that other place, and 'dapper' definitely describes Bill.

Only... he has to consider the sorce material.

This _particular_ book happens to be written by one Quentin Trembley, and the passage Dipper found was a chapter called _'Contemplantions On A Dream I Had One Wednesday Morning About Fruitcake.'_ The writer was a practitioner, so he knew something about magic. But he's also someone who invented a spell to turn underwear into decorative hats, and claimed his familiar was a coffee mug shaped like a fish. Dipper sighs and turns the book to look at both sides of the old leatherbound cover briefly, then chucks it behind him. It bounces on his bed a few times, and with a soft shuffle, slips between the wall and the mattress.

He's _got_ to do more research.

He could just ask Bill, but the demon seems to enjoy leading him on. There's a zero chance he'd get a straight answer from him, even if he _could_ ask. He hasn't seen Bill in days.

Dipper brushes a thumb over the cut on his temple - scabbed over and still sore, but it could be worse - and worries. Has Bill ever said anything about dreams? Maybe-

"Dipper! Hey!" Mabel calls from downstairs, loud and enthusiastic. Her footsteps start charging upstairs towards him.

"What is it?" He responds, standing up just as Mabel bursts open the door to the bedroom. Waddles peeks out from behind her, and trots up to him. The pig starts to sniff around Dipper's feet, looking at him for treats. Dipper nudges his sister's familiar away gently with one foot, then rubs at his eyes. "You wanted something?"

Mabel takes a moment to pause, looking at him with concern. "Are... you okay."

Dipper mutters something noncommittally, shutting his eyes and letting his head drop into his head. "Fine. Just... yeah, I'm fine."

"If you're feeling sick, you should tell me," Mabel states firmly, and steps towards him. She presses her palm against Dipper's forehead. "Hmmm. My professional diagnosis as a Dipper-expert tells me..." she glares at him, punching him gently on the shoulder. "You haven't been sleeping again!"

Dipper shrugs. He hasn't felt like sleeping in a few days. Tired? Maybe. _Exhausted,_ really. But it's not like he needs to sleep.

" 'm okay," he manages to get a small smile on his face. "You seem excited. What's going on?"

Mabel hesitates, just for an instant, then smiles, smugly. "You tell me."

What the hell? "I don't know what you're going on about."

"Come on! I'm your sister, you can tell me!" Mabel insists, and then - oh no - she starts with the puppy eyes, wide and pleading. "I heard something happened," she nudges him on the shoulder. "And it was really cool."

Dipper's eyes widen. "You can't be talking about..." His escape, and if _that's_ getting around, then- "No, I didn't-" He stutterers, but he's immediately interrupted.

"You did do something, didn't you? I knew it!" His sister's eyes gleam, and she bounces a little where she stands.

"I got away from those assholes, if that's what you're asking," Dipper mutters, shifting his hands in his pockets. For a moment he thinks about telling her- only at some point he'll have to explain _how,_ and then, suddenly, there will be consequences. "I don't know what you heard, but it's not true."

"You dissappered! You, like, teleported," Mabel burst out suddenly, grinning. Waddles trots over and sits obediently by her feet, looking up at her. "C'mon, tell me about it."

"That _didn't_ happen," Dipper insists. "But, really, you know I can't-" His throat tightens up a little. After summoning Bill, Dipper knows why he had trouble. But it's not like there's any other way to explain it. If it weren't for his stupid summon, he'd never be able to...

"I'm not good at magic, you know that." He blurts out. All of the Pines have known about his problem, but nobody's said it out _loud_ before. It hurts a little to say, but it's... kind of a relief. Acknowledging that Dipper Pines is the worst magician ever. That he _sucks._

 _"_ Try it!"

Dipper starts a little, distracted from his thoughts. "What?"

"Try it again!" Mabel insists, looking determined. "You're my brothery, and you're awesome, and I just know you've got something you're amazing at!" Dipper looks away, rubbing his arm, and her expression softens slightly. "Maybe you're worried you can't do it again. But I know you can. You're gonna be great."

She gives him a double thumbs-up, and the brightest, most helpful grin he's seen from her in a long time.

It makes Dipper feel sick.

After all this time, even knowing how untalented he is, how he can't find anything to be his familiar... she pays attention to what happens to him. She listens for rumors about his abilities. She wants him to have _something_.

Mabel is halfway though lifting her arms up to cheer him on when everything turns monochrome.

Dipper flinches - he hadn't tried to do this, it was an accident - and looks around himself. It's still the same Mystery Shack, just... grayscale and motionless. He waves his arms, and tries some magic. Most of it fails. The fire he's been able to make since the bonding works well enough, but there's nothing here he wants to burn.

Right. The first priority is getting back. He takes a deep breath, and concentrated on reality. Maybe he just needs to think the opposite of what he does to get here? Reverse this whole idea. He lets out a slow breath, and thinks _'I want to be here.'_ When he peeks open an eye after several moments, nothing has changed. No color, no motion, no anything.

What the _hell_ kind of place is this?

Dipper sits down on the floor, rests his face in his hands, and waits. Last time, this wore off as he ran. It's probably some kind of time-based spell, it should disappear eventually. So he waits.

He does a lot of waiting.

Dipper checks a few times to see how much time has actually passed, but according to what he has on him - watch, phone, everything - it's exactly the same minute as when this started. But it has to have been at _least_ twenty! What the _hell_. He hits his watch a few times, but it doesn't change. Time to give focausing on returning another shot. Dipper closes his eyes, and concentrates. He's got to restore time. He's got to get _out_ of here.

Taking a deep breath in, he finds a rhythm for his breathing, and meditates. Either this will wear off, or he'll find a key to escape this place. He focuses on his breathing for a long while, thinking about restoring reality, about going home.

When he blinks again, nothing's changed. His sister's still frozen. Everything's grey, and he still has no idea what the hell is happening.

Dipper feels his stomach drop with a sudden lurch.

He has no idea how he got here. He doesn't even know where 'here' is. He's got no idea how to start time again. With a rising sense of panic he realizes Bill, who's the only person - Well, 'person' - who might know what's going on, is nowhere to be found. He's... close by? That's all Dipper can tell through their connection. Can't be stuck here stuck here forever, though. That's- not possible. He's certain. Mostly certain.

Dipper wraps his arms around himself, hunching over. For a brief, desperate moment, he actually wishes Bill was around. _He_ might know what to do.

"Aww, did you miss me?"

Dipper startles at the sound, and stares. His own personal bastard is, somehow, suddenly sitting next to him.

"Admit it, you missed me." Bill continues, smirking delightfully, poking Dipper on the cheek. Dipper cringes away, but Bill clearly doesn't care, pulling him closer by wrapping his arm around his shoulders. "You've got an affinity for this place, kid," Bill says happily. "Wasn't expecting you back for a while. I _might_ ," he says carefully, rubbing his chin. "Actually be glad to see you."

Dipper struggles with himself for a moment. Bill's powerful as hell, and cagey to boot. He hates telling the truth, and he could kill Dipper in an instant. But he's such an asshole that Dipper no longer cares. He _has_ to ask.

"Where the _hell_ am I?"

Surprisingly, instead of being smug and evasive as usual, Bill grins, wide and bright. "Welcome home, Pine Tree." And he drags Dipper up along with him where he stands. Dipper stumbles and finds his feet, squished annoying against his demon companion, hip-to-hip.

Dipper gives Bill a disgusted look.

"Don't make that face, kid, you started this whole shebang," Bill says, though he's still amused. "It's good to see you! I've got some work to finish up on the other side of things."

"You didn't answer my question," Dipper mutters. "Where am I?"

"The Mystery Shack."

"I know _that_ ," Dipper can already tell this is going to be another frustrating conversation where he tries to get a direct answer, and Bill runs circles around him. Although... "What work are you talking about?"

Bill straightens up proudly, looking obscenely pleased with himself. "Come take a look, kid." He lets Dipper go, and, patting Mabel on the head as he walks past her, heads over to look out the window. Dipper hesitates for a moment, steps over to stand next to his familiar, and looks.

He stumbles back rapidly, clasping his hands over his mouth to keep him screaming. Bill laughs, high and bright.

The scene on the lawn is like something from a nightmare.

There are... _parts_. Strewn everywhere. Dipper's gald there isn't any color, because it means there's less details. He could only tell where most the blood and viscera is by the darker streaks on the grass. The white of the bones still show up as bright spots in this awful fucking palette. They're laid out in some kind of grotesque pattern, and there a lot of them. Small fragments strewn in circles, leading to larger chunks, and then to whole bones. In the center of this awful display is an animal skull. The teeth in it are disturbingly familiar.

Dipper - hoping against hope he's not right - is almost certain he pulled his leg out of a set just like it, not too long ago. He turns to look at Bill. At some point while he panicked, he grabbed onto his familiar's clothing and drew himself closer. "What. Did. You. Do." Dipper says slowly, teeth clenched together.

Bill actually looks surprised for a moment, then... oddly embarrassed.

Bill looks away, clearing his throat. "Well, like I said, I'll finish it soon. Won't take to long," he turns and winks at Dipper, smile spreading across his face again. "I've gotta get you trained up, after all. It'll hardly take any time at all to make this biz happen in reality," He waves a hand dismissively at the gore. "Then we'll come back here, and really get to work!"

"This is a nightmare." Dipper mumbles.

"Best kind of dream, kid. Takes a lot of skill." Bill says, smugly. Something pings in Dipper's mind. What Bill said when they met-

 _Expect the worst dreams of your life, for, oh, forever-_

"Dream demon," Dipper murmurs, and feels Bill's tense briefly under his grip, then relax.

Bill chuckles, and Dipper feels a few strong pats on his back. "You're a quick study, aren't you, kid. It's part of why I liked you! Honestly, I didn't think I'd like you at _all_ , but you've got potential. A _lot_ of potential," Bill practically purrs the last sentence. "We're gonna be great together."

Dipper shakes his head slowly, though he's thinking fast. The hell kind of place does this asshole have? But it doesn't matter. He knows what Bill is, now. Whatever this demon's plans are, Dipper can throw one hell of a wrench into them. Because he's figured it out.

The gestures Bill made when he was summoned didn't let him leave. He hasn't been around for days, not since Dipper pulled them into this place, and suddenly dropped out. Bill couldn't finish his 'work' in reality.

"You can't do it," Dipper said softly, the realization bright and certain in his mind.

"I can do anything, Pine Tree," Bill scoffed, rubbing Dipper's back and leaning against him slightly. He's completely missed Dipper's meaning. "Just you wait. Things are going to be fun."

"No, I get it now." Dipper shakes his head slowly, feeling a little dazed. "It's our bond. Without me, you can't get out of your realm," he looks up at his demon slowly. " _Or_ in it."

This time, Bill stands completely still.

That's it. He's _right_.

Dipper straightens up and grabs his familiar by his stupid suit lapels. "We're leaving," he states. "And we're never coming back to this... whatever this is. Just... fuck this place."

Bill's eye turns red, and he reaches out-

Dipper pulls.

Color and motion slammed back into place, and Bill's hands smack into the wall beside Dipper's head. They stare at each other, breathing hevily - Dipper with exhaustion (that took way more effort than he thought it would) and Bill with sheer, seething anger.

"Oh. My. God." Mabel squeals. Both of them freeze in place.

"Dipper!" Mabel is watching them, and she gasps, clasping her hands to her face. "You did it! And you brought your boyfriend," she says, smirking as she says the last bit. "Hey, Bill."

Bill blinks a few times, eye turning back to gold. He gives Dipper a glare, though it shifts into a grin as turns to look at Mabel. "Hey there, Shooting Star. Wasn't expecting this," he glances back at Dipper, who's already pressed himself further against the wall in defense. "Your brother's _really_ attached to me." The last part is said with nothing less than a leer.

"Oh my gosh, Dipper! Look at you, you have a talant!" Mabel almost takes a step forward, then notices the position they're in. She blinks, and turns away slightly. Dipper feels his face heat up. "Buuut I think I'll leave you two alone for a bit," Mabel covers her mouth with one hand as she giggles. Waddles starts heading out the door even before she moves to leave - then his sister pauses, and points a demanding finger at him. "Don't think you're off the hook! I wanna hear all about your magic later."

"I- sure. Fine." Dipper says, slightly strangled. Mabel giggles to herself again, quietly. She retreats from the room, Waddles leading the way out.

Bill turns to look at Dipper.

Dipper stares back.

"You," Bill says carefully. "Are a complete pain in the ass," Dippr braces himself against the wall, ready for some kind of retaliation - but Bill just shakes his head. "Nah, kid, I respect it! Can't say I'm thrilled, but I understand. Honestly, I wouldn't like you at all if you weren't a challenge." He grins, again. And for the millionth time, Dipper wants to punch this smug bastard in the face. "Oh man, this is going to be fun.

"I really, really hate you," Dipper says blandly.

"I," Bill declares, drawing himself up and cupping Dipper's chin with one hand. "Am going to kiss you."

"What?" Dipper asks, baffled, and Bill closes in. His eyes widen as warm lips press against his own, then he shuts them tightly. A firm hand strokes down his back, and then up again. It makes Dipper relax, the slow trail over his back pressing into just the right spots, and the soft, warm lips against his own are surprisingly pleasurable.

This... feels nice?

It only last for a few moments. Then Bill pulls away suddenly, running his tongue over his lips, and gives Dipper a slow, lecherous smile.

"You're a stubborn little idiot, Pine Tree," Bill says. "But I can work with that. You're one entertaining human. And with _your_ potential, we could do some pretty great stuff together," The demon pulls him in close, eye glowing unnaturally. Bill's thumb traces over Dipper's neck, feeling his pulse, and he smiles.

"Do everything I say," Bill murmurs, leaning in close. "And this world will be mine." He pauses for a moment, thinking. Then he taps Dipper on the chest, beaming at him. "Tell you what - and this is generous of mine - if you're good... it might even be _ours_."

Dipper leans away from his touch, feeling stunned. What the _hell_?

"Nope," he says, and shoves Bill away from him. He only manages to move the jackass away a fraction of an inch.

It makes Bill grin. "Doesn't matter. Sooner or later, you'll come around. He grabs one of Dipper's hands, lifts it up, and kisses the back of it.

Despite himself, Dipper feels his face heat up. "Cut that out!" He yanks his hand away, wiping it on his pants. "That's _not_ going to happen."

Bill's still grinning. "Yeah. You're a moron. You've got enough of a pair to challenge me, sure! But I'm the master of the mind, kid," Bill says happily, patting him on the head. "And you're _mine_."

Dipper takes in a sharp breath and holds it, fuming. He lets it out slowly, and shuts his eyes. And he knees Bill right in the groin.

Dipper watches Bill curl into himself, cursing in several different languages, and, very briefly, smiles. He's probably going to pay for that, but it was _worth_ it. Bill might believe he's the one who has control, but he's an idiot if he thinks Dipper's not going to fight him for it.

* * *

 **Wow, those sure were some words that appeared. It's a surprise to everyone!**

 **Sorry I haven't posted in a while, there was a whole lot of stuff going on with my parents, so, that kind of has been on my mind for a while. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and stick around for more! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the LONGGGG ass delay. I've been super duper busy with family drama and all the stress got to me and I just had to take a mental break for a very long time.**

 **But, I'm back and I'm feeling better than ever! I promise that I'm going to try and keep the updates continuous and keep you guys happy! I know I am! I hope y'all enjoy this chapter and leave any thoughts you have!**

* * *

While Bill crams a forkful of pancakes into his mouth, Dipper stares at his familiar with quiet, simmering resentment.

Ever since he dragged Bill back from… wherever that place was, the demon's been hovering around him incessantly. It's not like before, when he'd vanish to go do his own demonic… whatever, going out of sight sometimes for days at a time.

Dipper used to worry about what Bill was up to, but this? Is weird. And it's starting to get to him.

Mabel thinks it's cute that his 'boyfriend' is hanging around. Though she did insist on them moving into the spare room - once the body-switching carpet had been rolled up and shoved into a closet. He can't really blame her. He wouldn't want to share the same space as his sister if Pacifica was hanging around her all the time. Not that she's admitted anything, but hey, he's not blind.

So.

There's him, and there's Bill. And there's endless, sleepless nights. Bill apparently doesn't need rest, so the demon just… stares at him. For the entire night. Dipper, in turn, stares at the wall.

He can't remember the last time he slept.

Random things around the Shack have been catching on fire. Dipper wishes he was more certain who was causing it, but he's got a sick feeling it isn't his familiar. He flinches now, whenever anything brushes against him unexpectedly. Meanwhile, Bill is alternating between quiet anger (Dipper's already learned several ancient and really inappropriate curses), and cheerful sociopathy. He messes with the guests in the Mystery Shack, then Dipper intercepts him, and then… things get weird.

And Dipper really, really wishes Mabel hadn't caught them wrestling in the closet that one time. It was awkward.

The point is, Bill can't get Dipper to reenter his realm, no matter how he's pushed for it. Though Bill's extremely magical, intelligent and violent, Dipper is now the key to Bill's realm, and he's figured out how to control it. Sort of.

He's only gotten to the point where he can shove things into it without bringing himself along for the ride. It pisses Bill off immensely, but Dipper's more worried about running out of ammo. Mabel's eventually going to notice that her stuffed animals are disappearing, as Dipper tosses them into people's nightmares.

And now, Dipper has possibly the only mortal instance of surviving a demonic attack completely unharmed.

He'd panicked at the sudden surge of heat and blue light around him, he'd almost run for his life - but the demonic flames just… tingled. Maybe Bill had been trying to scare him, maybe he was honestly trying to kill Dipper. It doesn't matter. It didn't hurt him any more than it had when Bill had first been summoned. It was like being in a warm, thick wind. The fire trailed over his skin, tickling until he couldn't resist giggling helplessly, bending over with his arms over his stomach.

Bill had given him a look of absolute rage, then stormed off, and the flames faded away. The demon had sulked for days afterward.

So after everything they've been through - they're at a stalemate.

They don't mess with each other's stuff. Bill doesn't set anything of Dipper's on fire, and Dipper doesn't access the dream-place…thing, and chuck more stuffed animals into Bill's favorite nightmares. (He really hopes Mabel won't notice.)

They're both stuck in reality. A reality full of glaring at each other, and bickering. They can't even agree on who's the familiar and who's the master, and likely they never will. Dipper's never met someone who argued so easily (and evilly) before.

Bill is infuriating. It's fascinating.

No. Exhausting is a better word. Dipper's never felt so tired in all his life.

Dipper shakes his head suddenly, trying to wake up a little. He stares at the plate in front of him, poking at his food idly. They're in Greasy's Diner, and the people around him alternate between near slow-motion, and bright, vivid reality. He stares off into the distance. It's oddly intriguing.

His sister sits on the opposite side of the table, Bill on her right. To Dipper's left, Waddles snorts contentedly - the only pig in the world allowed to sit in a booth - the sound occasionally distorted by whatever weird time-stuff is happening.

"I like this fluid," Bill says cheerfully, and Dipper blinks, starting from his blurry half-sleep just in time to see Bill tilt his head back, and start pouring an entire carafe of maple syrup straight down his throat.

Mabel laughs and throws her hands up in the air. "Chug! Chug! Chug!" She chants, and Dipper grimaces in disgust, heaving himself over the table, trying to pull the stupid syrup from Bill's hands.

Aren't demons supposed to have some kind of dignity? How can he be so embarrassing?

Bill fights him - no surprise there, story of their entire relationship - and gets syrup down his chin and on his (for once) casual clothes. Dipper doesn't know how he got them, but hello, demon. It was probably something involving murdering someone for their t-shirt, and stripping it off their still-warm corpse.

Dipper finally wrests the jug from Bill's grip, but not before there's an unholy mess on the table and down the front of Bill's shirt. Mabel pouts, putting her hands on her hips. "Awww, bro, don't be such a killjoy! That was fun!"

His familiar grins, an overly long tongue swiping quickly down to clean his chin while Mabel's distracted. "Shooting Star's right. Live a little, why don't ya?"

Dipper sucks in a breath through his teeth, forcing a smile on his face (even he knows it looks fake). "Sure thing," He says, jaw still clenched tightly. "Mabel, can we have a moment?"

His twin raises a brow, then frowns, looking between Bill and Dipper - the demon pulling up the front of his shirt to suck on the syrup soaking into it, and Dipper, twitching a little as he tries to keep smiling.

"Okay," She says carefully, getting up. "I gotta go to the little girl's room anyway." She steps away, Waddles slipping off the booth to trot after her.

Dipper glares until Bill finally looks up and notices him. He blinks, mouth still full of his own shirt, then opens his mouth and lets the soaked garment fall back down. The demon looks slightly confused. "What's your deal, Pine Tree? I'm playing nice for once!"

"Exactly," Dipper hisses, leaning in close. Bill looks at him curiously, then rests his elbows on the table and leans in just as much, leaving only a couple inches between their faces. Dipper's used to this - he's not going to let himself be intimidated - and doesn't move away. "I know what you want," He mutters. "And I want you to know that even though you're being nice to Mabel now? It doesn't fool me," Dipper jabs a finger into Bill's shoulder. He's slightly disappointed when Bill doesn't react. "You'll destroy whatever you don't like, and I'm not going to let that-"

"Nope!" Bill interrupts, snorting softly. "You're an idiot, kid," He straightens up, and wipes some of the maple syrup off the table, sticking his fingers in his mouth. "I like Mabel. You can keep her! She can stick around when I-" Bill clears his throat. "I mean, 'we', take over!"

Dipper stares. "What?"

"I. Like. Your. Twin." Bill states, articulating the words. "And she can stick around. Way more chaotic and charismatic than yourself. You know, in case you haven't noticed!" Grinning, the demon leans back in the booth, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

Dipper thinks about that, then slumps back in his seat.

Of course Bill likes Mabel. And there's nothing wrong with that. That's a good thing. It means no matter what happens, no matter what Bill does, what happens with their bond - she's safe.

His hands clench tightly, nails digging into his palms.

It's a relief. Really.

Bill hums happily to himself, and starts picking up the little plastic containers of butter, unwrapping them and licking up the contents. Dipper spares an instant to cringe, then pulls the butter away from Bill. They struggle with each other for a few moments - Bill complaining that he can have whatever he likes, thank you very much, idiot, and Dipper arguing that Bill couldn't act normal if he had a century and written instructions.

There's a loud laugh next to them, and Bill takes advantage of Dipper's sudden hesitation to steal not only the remaining butter, but also all the sugars and creamer that Dipper had tried to keep from him at the beginning of breakfast.

"Aw, Bill!" Mabel says, still chuckling and flopping back into her seat next to the demon. Waddles hops up onto the booth next to her, snuffling into the sleeve of her sweater. "Don't embarrass Dipper so much, he hates it when people do this," Bill hesitates, just for a moment, frowning in the middle of ripping a sugar packet open. Then Mabel leans in conspiratorially, whispering at a volume that Dipper can clearly hear. "You should share some with me first."

Bill smiles, enthusiastic and bright. "What's yours is mine," He says, magnanimously offering Mabel half the sugar packets and giving a dramatic half-bow over the tabletop, doffing the hat he currently doesn't have.

Mabel starts giggling, hard. Next to her, Bill starts snickering in turn, eye shut, smile white and broad. Their half of the table is consumed with laughter, and sugar and creamer spills over the table as they rip the little containers open.

They get along really well, Dipper thinks.

He watches his familiar and his sister make a complete mess, one smirking, the other delighted and playful, as they swap sugar and creamer, and argue about how much more syrup they might need to finish off the pancakes, since Bill drank the last bit.

Dipper swallows, stands up, and leaves while they're still distracted.

The bell on the door jangles as it shuts behind him, and he keeps his eyes on the sidewalk as he storms away. He stares at the pavement. There's a rock on the sidewalk, and he kicks it along as he walks.

Everything's fine. It could be worse. Mabel's not in danger.

Dipper kicks the stone harder, sending it bouncing off the wall of a building and almost into the street. He gives it another sharp kick, and it clicks over the pavement in front of him.

Everything's actually pretty good! Bill's a megalomaniacal, sadistic bastard, and a demon. But he doesn't want to hurt Mabel. This whole situation is fucked up, but this is the best outcome he could have asked for. It's not even like it's surprising.

He traps the stone under his heel, and lets his weight grind down on it. Frustration sticks in his chest. It feels like he's choking on it.

Because everything. Likes. Mabel. More than him.

Dipper aims another kick at the stone - then misses, hitting the corner of a building a little too hard. It stings like hell, and he curses and hops on one foot for a moment. He takes in a slow breath, trembling slightly.

"Hey!" Someone shouts, and Dipper looks up.

It's them again. The same group that kicked the hell out of him last week. Why did this have to happen now, it's not like he doesn't have other problems! Though - he spares one terrified moment to notice it - there's one less familiar tagging along behind them. Where the hell did it go?

Dipper backs away, rapidly. This isn't good. He already has so much to deal with, and now he's going to get the shit kicked out of him. Again. Even after everything that's happened.

But you know what? Fuck that.

Dipper's bonded to a dream demon. He should be able to use it.

"Sleep!" Dipper shouts, turning away, one arm covering his eyes, putting everything he has behind it, the force of his will and all his magic,everything he can think of. He's never going to be great at magic, but with enough will he might get something to happen-

Who the hell is he kidding, there's no way that's going to work. This is going to hurt.

Dipper cringes, sucking in a breath through his teeth, and waits for the first blow to fall.

Nothing happens.

He blinks, and looks up.

His assailants are collapsed on the sidewalk, slumped forms snoring on the pavement.

It worked.

It worked, and he's not going to have someone trying to kick his face in. Not for a long time. Maybe never, if he can do this again. He can actually defend himself, he might be able to- This is incredible.

Dipper relaxes, almost laughing, then looks around. And freezes.

On the sidewalk, motionless bodies are slumped everywhere. Every person he can see is collapsed, unconscious, on the ground. Inside store windows, he can see the cashiers drooped over their counters, the customers senseless on the floor. Dipper yelps as he watches a car veer into a building, driver fast asleep behind the wheel - and breathes a shaky sigh of relief as only the car and the wall are damaged, not the driver, who's strewn over the triggered airbag, and visibly snoring.

Everyone is asleep. Everywhere.

He stares at his hands.

This can't be real. This isn't right.

"Well, well, well," Chirps a familiar voice, and Dipper flinches. Not this. Not now. "I'm actually impressed. Great work, Pine Tree, I knew you had enough in you to cause this much mayhem!"

Dipper turns, shoulders tense, and levels a glare at Bill-

Who's carrying Mabel. And Waddles.

His twin is draped over the demon's shoulder, her pig tucked under Bill's other arm. Mabel's sleeping, like everyone else, snorting softly and shifting a little. Bill leans to one side, adjusting her to balance better over his shoulder.

"So, you still not up for being my partner?" Bill sounds casual, but he waggles his eyebrows at Dipper. "Look at this! You and I could do so much together!" Bill makes a grand gesture at the world around them - still holding Waddles in one hand.

Dipper hesitates. Just briefly. (Bill is taking care of not only his sister, but her familiar. He actually, oddly enough, knows what's really important to Dipper. And is watching out for it.)

He thinks for a moment. Then he flips Bill off.

The demon sighs, shaking his head slowly. "Well, whatever. I've got all the time in the world. Literally!" He grins, and steps closer, bumping a shoulder against Dipper's. "Let's get your moronic self and your fun sister back to the Shack, and hey, if you ask nice? I might even help you dispel the curse you just cast."

Dipper mutters to himself, quietly furious, following his bonded jerkass as they walk back to the Mystery Shack - Freakin' Bill, thinks he knows everything - Then he stops in his tracks, stunned.

"Wait. That was a curse?"

Bill turns his head to look at him, eye wide with surprise - then laughs, hard.

"Oh, wow! You didn't mean to do that?" The demon grins so wide that his sharp, unnatural teeth show broadly. "I knew I liked you for a reason!" He sets Waddles down next to him briefly, and grabs Dipper's hand, squeezing it gently. "Gosh, kid, stop being so fun, I'm getting too fond of you and your cute butt."

Dipper yanks his hand away, clutching it to his chest. His face feels too hot, and he can't quite meet Bill's eye. "I- that-" He can't even complete a sentence.

Bill looks Dipper over slowly, then snorts derisively, picks Waddles back up under his arm, and keeps walking. "Suit yourself, Pine Tree. We'll chat later. Idiot."

"I'm not an idiot," Dipper argues, but he still follows Bill. Then he starts walking ahead of Bill, because fuck letting the demon take the lead, he knows the way back to the Shack and he's not letting Bill think he's got the better of him.

Behind him, he hears Bill snicker to himself.

This is going from bad to worse. Curses are supposed to be immensely difficult, and with Bill's power behind his magic, he just cast one by accident.

There has to be a way to get rid of this asshole, but he needs help. He casts a glance back at Bill, who's quietly humming to himself, looking around the sleeping town and way too pleased about things.

…But he'd be lying if if he said this wasn't a little bit thrilling.

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 **Hope you enjoyed! ;) I'm so glad to be back on track with this story and I hope y'all are happy I'm back as well!**

 **Stay tuned!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AHHHHH! Y'all don't know how fucking happy I am that I'm back! That mental break really has me feeling great and I have some great ass ideas for this story! (I'm thinking this story may get a part two...who knows;) )**

 **Thank you guys for still giving me a chance to put this story back out! Some people would have still been mad at me and not read it anymore...**

 **Hope y'all enjoy!**

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Dipper has two major problems, but at the moment, one's a lot more prominent.

Bill is still - and forever - a pain in the ass to deal with, but he's more like… background noise at the moment. Dipper's used to him by now, and can deal with his bullshit easily, almost reflexively.

The big problem is that he…. kinda cursed the town.

It was startling to see a whole street passed out on the ground. He'd cringed, and tried to look away, except that it was everywhere. Pretty large area of effect - he'd thought - until Bill and him had kept walking, and seeing more and more people stretched prone on the streets, and sidewalk, and the crashed cars, and- He'd upgraded 'large' to 'really freaking huge'.

It's just like when he tried to light the candles. Just a small thing, it should have barely worked-

And then it blew up in his face.

It's a problem for everyone, not just Dipper - hell, it was an accident - but it's his fault, and he feels awful anyway. This curse has got to be broken fast, because he's got no idea how permanent it is, or if it has individual effects, or - anything about it, really.

It's not a problem for Bill, though, who practically bounced with enthusiasm the whole time they headed back. Dipper feels like he should be upset about it, but he's calm, and unsurprised. Again, he's getting used to Bill.

The few people who aren't affected - mostly those on the outside of town, a surprising number of people inside town who were somehow missed, or unaffected - are banding together to find a solution.

And the culprit. Dipper figured he'd help out with the former rather than the latter.

What that means is that he's sitting at the kitchen table with Grunkle Stan, flipping through books, asking each other about ideas, hell, even googling things. (Mostly Dipper's job. Stan still has kind of a hazy concept of 'internet' beyond 'I can make money from this, somehow!')

Stan's not an expert or anything, but at least he's still awake, and he's gained tons of magical experience over the years. A lot of creative uses have gone into parts of the Shack.

Stan sighs, chucks the book he's looking at over his shoulder, and slumps. "Well, I'm stumped. I give up." He rubs at the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses. "Any ideas?"

Dipper… figures he should be more surprised, but he's not. "Sorry," He admits. He hasn't actually been reading, he's been going over what he did - quietly, just… little touches of magic and will - but he can't figure out what the reverse of what he did would be. "Haven't a clue."

Stan frowns. He taps one shoe on the floor. "Well, I got one," he grumbles.

What?

"What?" Dipper asks, and tenses. "A clue about… uh," He stares back at the book open in his hands. "How to fix this?"

"Yeah," says Stan, and taps his finger on the table as well. "This is too big for you or me," He runs a hand through his greying hair. "I'm gonna call my brother."

"Oh!" Dipper straightens up, surprised. "Ford? Wait, he's-"

Off exploring mystical reaches of existence, and remote areas - practically an adventurer - extraordinarily skilled practitioner, and not one of those flashy ones either, only using the tiniest bit of power. He's still amazing, a talented cursebreaker - and a demon hunter.

Dipper should be excited. If anyone could figure out how to separate him from Bill, it would be Ford….

But.

God, it was so stupid to try something like making a fake familiar in the first place, he can't say he basically did the mystical power equivalent of, of jerking off to his freaking Great Uncle. Ford might be understanding, but there's nothing about that conversation that wouldn't be really really awkward. Or worse, Ford could be disappointed in him. And wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake on this whole, fucked up, humiliating situation.

Not to mention Bill wasn't, technically, summoned. They're bonded. Part of his weird demonic energy is all wrapped up with Dipper. It's like a warm light somewhere in his chest, though he tries to ignore it most of the time. Dipper thinks about what that's going to feel like when it ends.

It's supposed to hurt, like. A lot. He's definitely not looking forward to…

Dipper clears his throat. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

"So… Ford's pretty hard to find…" Travelling everywhere, doing the unimaginable - it's worse than only not being near a phone, when there's magical interference involved. "How're you-?"

Stan sighs again, harder, and stands up, pressing his hands against the tabletop and knocking off a couple of books. "Old trick from back in the day. Should still work." He frowns. "…Yeah, it'll be fine. We can at least talk. Get some ideas."

"Awesome! So what-"

Stan groans. "No offense kid, but this is gonna be a complete pain - and just so you know, it's gonna be literally painful - So I'm gonna take this to the other room for a minute." He sounds more than a little disgruntled. For a moment, Stan looks off into the distance - then he shakes his head. "Stay here and keep reading. You like that stuff, right?"

"Sure," Dipper agrees hesitantly. The relationship between the Stans has always been a bit tense, but he's never asked about it. It's probably kind of personal.

He watches Stan retreat into the living room, quietly grumbling. He flips through the books some more, breathing out sharply at how completely useless every single one of them is - oh man, this page is just completely false, it's misleading as hell.

Sitting up quickly, Dipper looks around himself - nobody here, Stan's busy, Mabel's still cursed into a magical sleep - Carefully, he burns the page out of the book, using the smallest flame he can. It's oddly satisfying.

Then he slams it shut. And waits.

Not even ten seconds later, he's standing with his ear pressed against the door to the living room. He stepped close as quietly as possible - Stan wanted privacy - but hey, it's a strange spell, and he's always been interested in the theory, even if he has, or, (a little burst of pride surges in him) had, problems with practicing it.

Instead of whatever chant or ritual Stan uses, Dipper hears the muffled sound of a conversation. Or rather half of a conversation - whatever Stan did, Ford's voice isn't audible. He lifts his head away from the door, a little disappointed - but…

Well, he's already here. Why not?

He leans in again, listening. He only catches brief snatches of conversation, and still only half of it. The words he can hear are soft, and he has to concentrate to understand them through the muffling of the door.

"-no, not something unimportant-"

"Why would- No, you-"

"-told you, hundreds! How many other cities have-"

"No! Look at the news, oh wait, which you don't have there-"

There's a very loud bout of cursing, then Dipper hears the sudden shout clearly. "Well, our freakin' niece is cursed, and I sure as hell don't know what to do about it!"

There's a long, long silence.

Dipper bites his lip. Yeah. Mabel's cursed. But it's not a deadly curse. Not… over the short term. People can't sleep forever.

But. It's Dipper's. So he can reverse it, he can stop this. All he needs is to see how it's done, or wrangle the solution out of Bill. And he can do that too! He's learning how to handle the demon so well, it-

He can fix it. He will fix it.

The conversation continues, much more quietly. It takes a moment, but Dipper, hesitantly, listens in again.

"Anyone? Not-"

Another pause, not quite as long.

Stan lets out a long, hopeless sigh. "Just Dipper. And well… you know." And the tone on the last phrase is so quiet-

Dipper straightens up, takes a slow breath. He keeps his face calm, and composed. He walks, carefully, slowly, and quietly back to the table.

He takes a seat, and opens up another book.

The words are there, but he doesn't see them. He just stares. The book in his hands is shuddering, and Dipper steadies it by resting his arms on the table.

This curse is too powerful. It's got too many people in its grip. To break it they'll need the best, the absolute best, people like Great Uncle Ford. And that'll save Gravity Falls, and everyone will be fine, because they'll have the most powerful people, those who have great talents.

Not other people. People who can't, nine times out of ten, light a candle. Or someone who can't move water, air, or earth. Or lift an object. Even though they're really trying.

The pages crumple under his hands.

Not someone who's - 'you know'.

A failure.

The paper he's touching starts to smoke.

Dipper fumbles the book around, almost dropping it, and dashes over to the sink, slamming open the tap and running the book under the water. He curses softly to himself.

"What…exactly are you doing?" Stan asks, in confusion. And Dipper yelps, drawing back, clutching the soaked book to his chest. That was fast, that call must have ended almost the instant he stopped-

"Nothing! How did the contact go? How's Ford doing?" Dipper babbles, and pats at the pages of the book, returning to his seat and wiping what water he can off. There are a few scorch marks, but at least nothing soaked in. "Did he have any advice?"

Stan gives him an odd look, then shakes his head and shrugs. "Listen, Dipper… I gotta leave."

"What?"

"Turns out - well, there are a couple important things about whatever's going on here - " Stan says, crossing his arms and frowning. "First," He raises one finger. "This is really serious. Ford's coming here as soon as he can."

"So why are you leaving?" Dipper asks. He knows they've got issues, but for Stan to leave when Ford's coming here seems a little extreme-

"Second," Stan says, rolling his eyes and raising another finger. "He's in some kinda messed up place right now and needs some help dragging his nerdy butt back here," Stan shrugs dismissively, but there's just a tiny hint of smile on his face. "So guess who's doing that?"

"You are." Dipper answers. He finds himself smiling a bit as well. It's… hey, if Stan's happy, that's a good thing.

"So try not to sleep too much while I'm out," Stan continues, already heading upstairs. "Shouldn't be much of a problem for you, anyway." Hilarious. Because Dipper's never heard a joke about his insomnia before. Even when he still could sleep.

"Promise," Dipper smiles weakly, and gives Stan a small nod. "When do you think you'll be back?"

Stan takes a second to think on it, then shrugs. "If we're lucky, maybe three days? If not, maybe a week?" He shrugs. "Hard to tell, and honestly? I think my brother's a bit pessimistic about it." He snorts, grinning softly. "But I gotta get some stuff. Then, I'm outta here."

Eventually Stan is packed, ready, and standing in the door. Dipper watches, leaning against the wall. Though Stan casts a glance back over his shoulder, and his face is serious. "Just… be careful, alright?" He looks away and scratches the back of his neck. "We got no idea what's out there."

Dipper rolls his eyes. What's out there? It's him, not something dangerous. Nothing is going to happen. "I'm sure things are fine. Take care, too."

Stan shuts the door behind him - then it slams back open quickly, and he points a finger at Dipper. "And keep your creepy boyfriend outta my stuff!" He nods, once, then closes the door, taking off. Dipper looks around.

Where the hell is Bill, anyway? He's a dream demon, it's his magic, he should know all about the curse. He said he'd - he said he'd maybe help Dipper with what he's done. But Dipper knows that getting that help is going to be like pulling teeth. At best.

There's a soft hum near him. Dipper doesn't turn to look, there's only one other awake person in the Shack. Someone just as sleepless as he is.

"Hey Bill," Dipper waves idly. "So, we're getting a cursebreaker in, apparently," He shakes his head, but he can't help but smile a little. Ford's so cool. "My uncle Stanford."

There's a quiet, amused noise from where Bill's standing, and he hears the demon step up next to him. "Stanford Pines, huh?" Dipper glances at him. Bill's got an oddly serious, contemplative look on his face. "Interesting," He mutters, and taps a finger against his mouth.

Then his ever-present smile returns, and he turns to Dipper. "Aw. Stanley there says I'm creepy, huh? I'm devastatingly charming!"

Dipper can't help it, it's just so wrong. He snorts out a breath of laughter, then sterns his face quickly and shoves a fist over his mouth. "You're a megalomaniac demonic asshole." He grumbles. "Nobody finds that charming."

"I'm your 'boyfriend', aren't I? You gotta." Dipper punches Bill in the ribs. "Oh, I'm wounded," Bill continues, unperturbed, voice low with sarcasm. "Bury me… never, because noodly little arms can't destroy immortal beings who existed long before their ancestors had ancestors."

Dipper ignores that, and turns to face him. "Teach me how to break the spell."

Bill cocks his head.

"Thought you said they were bringing in a cursebreaker, sapling, Why are you worried? Things'll get fixed sooner or later, since this…" Bill breathes in slow, then sighs, dramatically. "Unfortunately… won't kill anyone. Probably. Good first try, though!" He smiles, and pats Dipper on the arm. "Maybe next time."

"There won't be a next time," Dipper insists, tense. "And-"

And if he can fix this, before the experts move in - before anyone steps in his way and says he can't, when he knows he can - people will see he's good at this now, he won't be -

You know.

He takes a slow steady breath, and glares at Bill. "This is mine. I should be the one to deal with it. Not anyone else."

Bill looks him over for several moments, smile gone, head still tilted to one side. Then he closes his eye, and nods slowly, approvingly. "Alright."

"Alright?" Dipper repeats, surprised. He looks around - no, just Bill and him, he can't see any traps. He looks back at Bill. "Not that I'm complaining, but I was expecting more of an argument." They almost always argue. This is a little weird. He narrows his eyes, suspicious. "What's the catch?"

"No catch! I like the way you're thinking!" Bill grins again. And his eye briefly flares blue. "This is yours to give, and yours to take away!" He blinks, and his eye goes gold again. "Stay possessive, kid. Let's get you some control over this. See what happens."

Dipper feels… worried. Wow, Bill's actually being helpful for once, that's- insane.

"Of course, you also suck at everything," Bill adds, completely unnecessarily.

Dipper relaxes.

"So maybe you can't do it! But hey," And here Bill leans in, and plants a wet kiss on Dipper's cheek. "Who am I to prevent my pet from trying to take what's rightfully his?"

"I'm not your pet," Dipper says reflexively, then starts, as Bill strides off confidently to another part of the Shack. He reluctantly follows, wiping his cheek with the back of one hand.

"So, have you ever broken a spell before?" Bill asks as they walk, then immediately adds, "Ha! Of course you haven't. You've got potential, sure! But about as much knowledge as a concussed kitten. We'll have to start with the basics."

Dipper stares blankly, watching Bill practically skip into the living room, and slump happily in the armchair. "You know, I think the real reason I hang around you is because of the flattery," He says, sarcastic. "You always say the nicest things."

Bill looks at him from his seat, smile turning very, very slightly fond for an instant. And he laughs. "Like I said! I'm charming." He adjusts himself in the seat slightly, then pats his lap. "Have a seat."

With a soft sigh, Dipper steps in to stand beside the chair. He doesn't move to sit. "Seriously?"

"I ain't messing with you, Pine Tree," Bill states. Dipper crosses his arms, and doesn't move. He's not falling for… whatever this is.

There's a quiet standoff, but… surprisingly, Bill's the first to relent. He casts his arms up in a 'fine, whatever' gesture.

"Look, kid, you wanna learn some new tricks. Aaaand I just might be a little bit limited in this realm-" He levels a dirty look at Dipper's sudden smirk. "Whatever, I gotta work through you to show off the stuff. And touching makes it easier." Bill opens his arms wide, then gestures back at his lap, looking moderately annoyed.

Dipper stays still for a moment, still unwilling, but… Bill's got a point. It does make sense that for Bill's currently restrained power to show up, he has to do something. Using Dipper as a channel for it meshes with what Dipper knows of magical theory.

Fuck it. There are worse things. It's not like Bill can hurt him, and he's definitely tried.

Dipper walks forward, turns around, and drops himself onto Bill's lap harder than he actually needs to. Bill grunts softly in pain. Dipper shifts, moving himself to lean over the arm of the chair, throwing his legs over the opposite. It's uncomfortable, and Bill's weirdly warm, but he's ready for anything the demon can throw at him.

He hopes.

Underneath him, Bill leans back, then takes up both of Dipper's hands in his. The smile is gone again, replaced with a look of concentration. "Hm," He tilts his head to both sides, looks up at Dipper, then nods, certain. "You are really damned uneducated."

Dipper fumes, and starts to get up. No point in wasting his time sitting here if Bill's only going to mess with him. "So what's the point of…."

Bill, still serious, pulls him in, keeping him in place. A surge of magic is- dragged, straight out Dipper's chest, through his arms - to where Bill's holding his wrists, it's strangely hot, but not burning. It's Bill, pulling his magic through Dipper and out from where they're touching.

Fine. Okay. He wasn't lying about the physical contact, but Dipper's still a little annoyed about the whole lap thing.

"Let's start- hm, I know," Bill grins at him, and makes Dipper cup his hands together, not quite touching. "With illusions!" He nudges Dipper with one shoulder. "You might not suck at it. You really love hiding things from people," Dipper looks away. Bill continues, either oblivious, or uncaring. "Let's give 'em something else to look for."

He drops one of Dipper's hands, and lifts his own. "Check this out! Nothing up my sleeve..." A quick gesture, and a dove appears in his hand, as detailed as a real one, right down to its cooing in distress. "Ta da!"

Bill chucks the bird away, and it flies rapidly - straight into the TV screen with a sudden cracking noise, where it falls down, dead. Its body bursts, exploding into a massive cloud of confetti and party streamers. They slowly dissolve as Bill stops powering their existence.

That... was disturbing. And weird, and oddly playful. So, much more like Dipper had thought this would go. He feels the magic curling around his hands, over his fingers, as Bill pulls his power through Dipper's own body. It's warm and kind of tingles, currently directionless, but he knows that if he really concentrated there - there would be a ton of fire, which couldn't hurt either of them, but could burn down the Shack if he's not really careful.

God, he's going to screw up trying this stuff. All the time. Bill expects it, probably. He'll think it's funny.

But Dipper will be damned if he lets Bill have that satisfaction. He's going to get things right, first try, before there's even a chance to taunt him.

"Hey," Bill draws a finger through the air, leaving a gold trail behind, drawing the outline of a triangle between them. He winks at Dipper through it "You wanna learn, or not?"

Dipper doesn't hesitate. He grabs Bill's hands with his own.

"Show me."

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 **Stay Tuned People! That's all have to say!**


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